Under the Sea
by glanmire
Summary: Who drinks vodka on a Thursday anyway?


He once met a girl, who went under the sea.

It wasn't by a cliff on a dark evening when the sun dissolved into the night in purple darkness.  
That only happens in the movies with the music and the mood lighting and the heroes.

This was a Thursday, the most normal of days, and he was ambling amiably back from the local, not really noticing anything in particular, as way his way.

He heard giggles, sobbing giggles, and wandered over to the pier, curiosity beating the beat of pain in his shoulder.

There he saw the girl, the girl whose hair was dripping, and her clothes were dripping too and she was sitting against the wall and she was laughing, and it made him so sad he couldn't bear it, and he didn't know why but just wanted to go home and have a cup of tea but sometimes you just have to ask the teenage girl is she okay.

"Are you okay?" he asked. What an idiot. He sounded like a silly old man. God, he wanted to go home. She'd be okay. It wasn't too cold.

She looked at him. What was he doing? He didn't rightly know.

"I'm perfectly fine" she said slowly, like he was the idiot here, even though he had a jacket and she was soaked and wearing those stupid little shorts and was subtly shaking, he noticed, and her hair went drip drip drip.

"Okay," he said grumpily, because he could be at home with his tea by now and she was grand, she was fine. Then he saw the bottle of vodka beside her, a naggin, was that what they called it these days.

"Oi" he said, before he could get over it and go home. She looked at him curiously, and he saw a piercing glint, "Oi, what are you doing with that? It's a Thursday for christsakes. Shouldn't you be studying or something?"

He sounded like an old bitter man. No one wanted to be the old bitter man, or to listen to them either. He started walking again. Oh god.

"Why?"

she asked, and it was such a short syllable he nearly missed it, it nearly tumbled away and into the past.

"Did you want some?"

He turned, and she coughed and said "Vodka I meant. Do you?" Her voice was pretty clear, but she was shaking a little bit more now. He shrugged off the jacket and threw it at her, habit. It fell beside her, and she just stared.

She couldn't move, he realised. Other than the shaking, with never really did anyone any good.

"Hey mister" she said, and she said it with two r's and it rolled out like a highway, he thought. "Don't mind me. Don't be giving me your coat.I'm dandy." giggled a laugh that sounded like a sob again.

He wanted to ask why she was soaked, who left her there, what was so goddamn funny, but you don't. You ask is she okay, you give her a coat.

"do you want a lift home?"

"go away you pedo. I'm fine"

"I'm only trying to help. It's almost midnight for godsakes."

"scared of the dark, are we?"

"I can't just leave you here in this state"

"course you can. Everyone does"

"can I call someone? For you I mean?"

She looked at him again. He really wished she'd stop doing that.

"why do you even care man? Just go home, wouldya? I don't need your jacket either"

and she leaned forward to push it away, and she just  
slumped  
and her hair skidded all over the place and she was giggling behind the dripping locks  
her back curved like a question.

"jesus christ.. "

He darted forward and heaved her up, slip of a thing, and her legs went whoosh out from under her and she giggled and giggled and he wanted to giggle too because if he was young and drunk this would be hilarity for him, but this wasn't kind of funny, not at all.

"c'mon, cm'here, you're alright, I'm a doctor"

and he found her phone, and called her mother, and she started sobbing in his arms

"no no no no don't tell my mum, no please.. "

and her mother was on the way, and she said thank you mister, with one r.  
You can go now, I'll be there in a moment.

He put her down, back against the wall.

"no no why did you tell my mum? noo.. "

The mother said to go. Mothers know best. He took the vodka

"noo, don't do that"

and threw it in over the pier, splash. Took his coat back and look forward to a goddamn cup of tea already.  
And he left.

If this was a fairytale, he would have turned back, and he would have saved her in the nick of time and if this was a science fiction story, it would all have been an experiment and she would really be thirty five and could probably fly or something like that.  
If this was Hollywood there would be no story, because they don't like these kinds of stories.

But it wasn't, and he walked away and hung up his coat and made some tea and went to sleep.  
Her mother put on some slippers and cursed and looked for her keys.  
And the girl waited on the pier and looked at the pretty water, and the way it slipped like silver between her fingers, and she wanted to swim again.

The girl was young, the girl was drunk,  
she could not swim, and so she sunk.


End file.
